


Better Than Reality

by nipple_bandit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nipple_bandit/pseuds/nipple_bandit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vriska is back in his life again. Just when he was starting to like himself again, his entire life is changed in an instant. There are only a few things that keep his mind off of his condition. MMORPGs, his new beginning at college, and the mysterious boy that helped save his life sweeps ago. </p><p>Rating subject to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

You are Tavros Nitram, a young troll boy. Back on the home planet of your race, in another galaxy, one might say you are 5 sweeps old, but here, you have lived 11 Earth years. Long ago, when your ancestors arrived on Earth as refugees, the humans welcomed them with open arms, but the empress could not adjust to the idea of being an equal and, over time, she gathered other trolls for her cause. 

She and her minions attempted to revivify the customs of the doomed Alternia, culling the lowbloods and many of the humans in masses, dredging up the ancient blood-caste system that no troll ever expected to live by again. Needless to say, even after the assassination of the Condesce, the uprising, though temporary, did not sit well with the human race. Because of this past occurrence, humankind has looked down on your ilk for ages. 

Even among your own kind, you have never been a troll of the popular persuasion. With your blood brown and your confidence dwindling, if at all there, you have developed quite the nervous stutter and have settled into an easygoing, routine life. You've grown comfortable with keeping to yourself for the most part, playing a variety of RPGs, and only ever venturing into the outside world when the few friends you have invite you to role play. At this particular moment in time, you are about to do just that. This is where your story begins.


	2. Introduction: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised a bit. I took out some "uh's." They were overbearing.

The sun has just conferred its goodbyes to the Earth's western hemisphere and a young troll, clad in green, sits on a soft patch of grass, his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff that is kind enough to provide him with a most beautiful view of the moonlit ocean. He awaits his friends. They are not late, but this troll habitually arrives rather early to catch a few moments of peace. Most other trolls are still sleeping this early in the evening and many of the humans have retired to their homes for the day. It is serene. 

The youth becomes so lost in his tranquil state that he barely notices his closest friend levitating beside him. She has a way of being curiously quiet, that one, and she seems to always appear from thin air. Almost like a ghost. He briefly entertains a thought. “With trolls like her, it's no wonder humans don't trust us.” However, the boy merely shakes the idea from his head. No need to give himself another reason to be self-conscious when he is already as far down on the confidence scale as he believes is possible.

“Hello, Tavros. I see you are the first to arrive, as always,” the newcomer says, alerting the young role player to her presence. Her placid voice only adds to the atmosphere. 

“Oh, h-hey Aradia. Where's Terezi? Don't you two normally walk together?”

“Yes. Terezi wanted me to inform you that she would be arriving a bit late. She... had to diverge from our usual route to collect Vriska.” Her voice falters momentarily with this rather unpleasant announcement and she absentmindedly brushes her mane from its windblown position in front of her eyes.

“W-what? V-vriska's c-c-coming?” Tavros stammers, his face becoming pale. 

“Yes. I'm sorry that this is news to you, I honestly thought Terezi had told you,” Aradia apologizes with her brows furrowing and genuine surprise showing through her usually unreadable face, “The role playing was getting a bit stale with just the three of us. Terezi wanted to bring back the old teams. You know how much she loved Team Scourge.”

“Yes, b-but... she's always so mean to me and she, doesn't role play very well.... Her m-methods tend to be a little....dangerous.”

“She promised to play nicely today. I assure you that if she doesn't hold true to this, we'll just start playing by ourselves again. Just the three of us. Besides, don't you miss Team Charge?” She gently pats him on the back.

“Well...yes. But a-are you s-sure she won't hit me again?”

“I'm positive. It will be fine, Tavros,” Aradia chimes, slightly lifting the corners of her mouth in a gesture of support. “I was the one who agreed to give her another chance. I will take full responsibility for her.” She brings her weak smile up a few notches to comfort the boy, moving her slender hand to her face to remove the mass of curls once again. 

She holds her hair to the sides of her face for a better visual of her landing as she drops soundlessly to the ground and sits atop her feet. The Ares gently nudges her friend's rather impressive horn, coaxing him to face her. Russet lips part to reveal petite fangs and a warm side of the girl who has been likened to a corpse on more than one occasion. She gently outstretches her arms and Tavros takes the invitation eagerly, hugging her as if she is an old friend that he's meeting for the first time in years.

He catches the sides of his own mouth curling up without his permission, but decides on allowing it.

“O-ok then, Aradia, I guess if you, say so, I trust you.” The two continue to embrace as Tavros continues. “I've... just had some b-bad experiences with her, is all. She-”

“Taaaaaaaavroooooooos!” Startled, Tavros quickly breaks away from Aradia's comforting arms. ”Nice to see you again, Toreadork! I see you're finally trying to fill one of your concupiscent quadrants.”

Momentary horror flashes across Tavros' face. He gulps, forces a meager smile, and turns to face the source of most of his nightmares. The vixen, herself, swaggers over to where Tavros and Aradia had been talking, arms outstretched for a hug. Terezi, who normally wears a permanent grin, has an air of uncertainty and stands nervously with one arm clutching the other at the crook of the elbow.

“Well, um, Aradia and I aren't like that. She's my best friend.”

“Just pale? Lame.” She briefly plants her hands on her hips.

“No! We, we're platonic best friends. Not that we couldn't be more than that if we wanted, w-w-we just don't r-really feel that way, and-and-”

“Oh, gog, just stop. You know I can't stand all that stuttering for more than a few seconds.” she huffed, brushing the air with her hand as if to knock his rambling away. “Anyway, it isn't surprising that you have no quadrants filled, you're still as lame as ever. You're the Boy Skylark. Again. How booooooooring, you neeeeeeeever do anything interesting,” Vriska chided, her glasses glinting in the moonlight, adding a sinister gleam to her weird eye. She holds her arms out again and begins inching over to the boy.

“Y-yes. It's my favorite class. I think it's p-plenty interesting,” the boy retorts as sternly as he can manage, which is not very.

“Quit your stupid stuttering and hug your beeeeeeeest friend. My arms are getting pretty fucking tired now.” She is now closing in on the poor thing, trapping him between herself and the edge of the cliff, giving him no other option but to comply. However, Tavros pulls a tiny bit of confidence from some unknown place in his mind and refuses her.

“I...I don't really want to, h-hug you, Vriska.”

The smirk on her face briefly morphed into a priceless look of confusion, something that was rarely seen in someone as overconfident as she. Nevertheless, brief is the key word. Just as quickly as it came, the confusion leaves, only to be replaced with raw fury. She quickly catches herself and regains as much of her composure as she can manage.

“Um, what the fuck did you just say, Pupa?” To suppress the ire in her eyes, Vriska forces a smile, the resulting visage rivaling that of a mental patient.

“I-I said, that I don't w-want to...hug you,” he repeats, his voice dwindling to a whisper by the end of the statement.

“I'm trying to show my damn affection, you little shit!” Vriska roars, her newly made fist rearing back like the tail of a scorpion aiming to strike. Before she can follow through, Aradia and Terezi both spring into action, simultaneously shouting, “Vriska!” She halts almost too quickly when they grab onto her.

“Fine, you don't want my hug,” Vriska hissed, “we'll get right to our game. The Boy Skylark can fly, right?”

“That's... that's only m-make believe Vriska,” Tavros replies, his face plastered with fear of what an unstable Vriska might do, “and at, higher levels.”

“That's nonsense! You're the most amaaaaaaaazing Boy Skylark! Of course you can fly!” joyous madness shining through all eight of her irises like the midday sun. “So, fly!”

“What?”

“Fly, Pupa, flyyyyyyyy!” With the two girls flanking her, restraining her arms, Vriska is left only with her feet. Before anyone can process what she is doing, her red boot flies out and nearly makes contact with Tavros' hip, but the trolls manage to yank her back in time to save their friend from a terrible fate.

“Fiiiiiiiine, ugh, if that's how you want it, I have other ways of getting what I want.”

None of the three youths understand what she means for all of three seconds. Realization hits them all in synchronization in the form of pure shock and horror clearly shown on their faces, but Vriska does not plan on giving them a chance to do anything about it.

“Looks like the odds are in my favor.”

With that sentiment, she forces her way into Tavros' head via mind control, willing him to carry out her intentions. With Aradia throwing her own mental fury at the cerulean-blooded harpy and Terezi desperately tugging at her sleeve, pleading with her, Vriska cannot keep her focus for very long. Even so, one instant is all she needs.

“Adios, Toreadumbass.”

With eyes glowing faintly, the hue resembling that of the ocean, Tavros slowly leans forward and lifelessly pushes his palms into the Earth, throwing off the already precarious balance and sending him falling to the beach below.

Aradia and Terezi throw Vriska to the ground and rush to the edge of the cliff, colorful tears already streaking their faces. They are both horror-stricken at the sight of their good friend crumbled on the ground. The cadaver is a contorted embossing on a, now, extra brown stretch of sand. 

Terezi remains on the ground, her eyes wide and unable to rip themselves away from the morbid sight. Aradia whips around with a smoldering glare trained on the girl who is now rolling on the ground, not so much laughing, but emitting the shrill banshee-like shriek of a madwoman. 

“Vriska! I'LL KILL YOU,” Aradia cries. She launches herself at the manic disgrace, clearly with the intent to kill. That is, before Terezi grabs onto her foot. “Let GO of me!” she wails, desperation evident in her cracking voice. Terezi, with eyes closed, solemnly shakes her head.

“Terezi! Tavros! I have to-”

“No, Tavros is top priority here, but not with vengeance. We need to check it out on the off chance that he survived.”

“Terezi, what about Vriska? We cannot just let her get away with this.”

“Oh, mark my words, she WILL meet justice. I'll see to it myself,” She growled through her mouthful of clenched, pointed teeth, her trembling grip on Aradia's foot tightening.

“But- fine, no, you're right. Let's go.” With one final glare in Vriska's direction, insanely gleeful eyes meet hollow eyes, full of scorn. Aradia grabs Terezi's hand and the two of them descend, averting their eyes from the gruesome scene. When they finally chance a peek, more from necessity than curiosity, they see something that neither of them anticipated. There is a troll; there is another troll there, a highblood, by the looks of it, staring down their fallen friend.

“You okay there, little motherfucker? I don't know why you up and jumped off of that cliff for, but you sure don't look all tits about it to me, bro.”

The troll, tall and lanky, donning clothes several sizes too big for him is wearing the face paint of a subjugglator, but has no trace of the blood-lust that they are so well-known for in his dazed eyes. What makes him stranger still is the fact that he is asking a corpse about his well-being.

“Excuse me, highblood,” Aradia chimed, “May I ask why you're talking to my friend's body?”

“Highwha-” he slurred, “Aw, naw, sis, don't be calling me none of that, now. My blood ain't better than any other motherfucker's blood.” He gestures to himself and then to Tavros, “Purple, brown, it's all the same shit, sis; it's all beautiful. Life is beautiful,” he gives the two girls a dopey smile, “I'm just asking this adorable little motherfucker why he up and went jumping off cliffs and all. Shit's dangerous,” his face shows unquestionable concern.

“I just thought I'd ask. He can't really answer you if he's dead, though,” she replies, looking down with fresh tears soaking her face.

“Haha, this motherfucker ain't dead, he's just chilling on the ground is all.”

“But he just fell, and the blood, and-”

“A-aradia?” questions a weak voice.

“Tavros! You're alive!” Aradia wastes no time in diving at him for a hug. A gentle, concerned hug, that is. Terezi lights up and drops to her knees beside the two.

“Aradia, you-you're here.”

“Of course I am, Tavros, how badly does it hurt?”

“Well, really, it's just my, head...” He momentarily lapses into unconsciousness. One of his legs is twisted a bit, he is showing signs of a minor concussion, there is a large cut on his thigh from a rock that he hit, and there is an abnormal amount of blood that seems to have spilled from the wound, but, otherwise, Tavros looks relatively fine. “I-I can't really feel much pain.”

Both Aradia and Terezi audibly sigh in relief.

“That's excellent. I suppose Vriska's luck was on your side today.” She pauses to hug him again. “I'm just so happy you're alive,” she whimpers, her voice faltering as she chokes up, flooding her eyes with tears, yet again. This time, however, they are joyous.

“Motherfucking miracles,” announces the tall highblood, startling the girls. In the midst of the happy moment, they had forgotten his presence. “Come on, little bro, let this motherfucker, right here, help you out and bring you to his hive. I'll fix you up, brother. Your miraculous sisters can tag along, too.”

“U-um, thank you for your....offer, but I, can't really do that.”

“Hell, you make a motherfucker all up and get his sad on so bad the wicked elixir couldn't bring me no bliss right now.”

“Oh, um, no, that's not it...it-it's just, I don't really think I can stand up.”

“Are you dizzy?” Aradia inquires.

“No...well, actually, yes, but that not-I just...I- my legs. I can't really move them. I guess, uh, they feel...invisible? No, that doesn't make sense...” His eyes are beginning to droop.

“Wait. What do you mean invisible, Tavros?” Aradia interrupts. “You have to stay awake. Answer me. Please.”

“I can't...can't feel my legs...and my head feels..” The injured troll is quickly nodding off.

“Tavros, Aradia's right, you should really stay awake,” Terezi urges, trying to make herself useful to the situation.

“I..Aradia, I don't...don't think it's a concussion. I think m-my blood is...I'm losing too much...” With that, he passes out.

“Oh, Tavros.” Aradia cradles his head on her lap, gently petting the soft clump of hair on his scalp.

“Can't feel his legs?” Aradia says to herself, pondering, “Does that mean-”

“Aradia, we should really take this guy up on his offer before Tavros loses too much blood. You should try to wake him,” Terezi informs, disrupting her thoughts.

“You're right.” She begins to gently shake her friend. “Tavros, Tavros, wake up.” 

With that, a fresh stream of blood begins flowing onto the sand. It is not coming from his thigh. Aradia's eyes go wide. She rolls Tavros onto his stomach to find the source of the bodily fluid. As soon as she sees it, her hands fly to her mouth instinctively. “Oh, no,” she whispers.

Near the base of his spine, Tavros has a massive lesion where he'd hit a rock twice the size of the one that scraped his leg. There is a sandy, dripping mess of ragged flesh, visible through the large tear in the green fabric, which is now soaked brown. He's paralyzed.

With a volatile mixture of despair, anger, and self-blame, she gathers the fragile troll in her arms and buries her face in his shoulder, shedding russet tears for what feels like the thousandth time in the last few minutes. She pushes his hat away to allow better access to his fluffy, black hair, stroking it as if it will save him from the suffering he will endure for the rest of his life. It is all she can do for him at this point. They all know this.

“I-I really don't know what I can fuckin' do here, but I live right over there,” the mystery troll says, attempting to help, “We can bring him there and stop him from up and bleeding more.”

“Th-thank you,” Aradia chokes out, “but we can't..” her voice is lost in her sobbing.

“I think...I think she's trying to say we won't be able to get him there. She's too worked up to levitate him.” Terezi says.

“That's fuckin' fine, I'll take care of it.” He bends down and nudges Aradia's weeping form away from Tavros. As delicately as possible, he rolls the troll back onto his backside and scoops him up, bridal style, being especially careful of Tavros' huge horns.

Terezi gaped at this, not thinking the gangly troll strong enough to lift more than a few pounds. “Can you carry him all the way there?”

“Yeah, sis, he's light as a motherfucking feather,” he smiles.


	3. Introduction: Part 2

Tavros is standing on a cliff by the ocean, clad in the garb of a Boy Skylark. Not the majestic clothes of just any Boy Skylark, but those of his hero, Pupa Pan. There is something off about the situation, however. Role playing is certainly a thing that Tavros does, but it is the middle of the day and he has no memory of climbing out of his recuperacoon to come here. He knows that he should be dead tired at this time of day or, more realistically, literally dead, or maybe blinded, from the harsh rays of the unfamiliar sun. There can be but one explanation. He is not Tavros; he is just very analogous in appearance. Tavros - or Pupa – has merely been fooled. The obvious similarities are there – the large, bull horns; the fluffed up mo-hawk; and the simple coincidence that he just happens to be standing in a place that this Tavros troll likes to play in with his friends. The differences are becoming more apparent. There is a stern look on this troll's face and his stance is absolutely much to confident for someone as meek as whoever Tavros is. He is Pupa Pan, but there is only one way to be sure. Kicking off of a rock with healthy, able legs, Tav – er, Pupa takes a running start and leaps off of the cliff. No worries, though, everyone knows that high level Boy Skylarks like Pupa can fly just as well as they can walk. His group of lost trolls is headed by the great Rufio, who is now a real troll for some reason. Wait. Of course he's real. Why wouldn't he be? The bunch calls up to him, cheering him on and chanting his name. “Tav-ros! Tav-ros! Tav-ros!”

Tavros? No, this troll is unquestionably Pupa Pan. He begins to fret and shout protests in their direction, but they ignore him and continue shouting. They can't be right. They're shouting the wrong name. The slighted Boy Skylark makes a feeble attempt to correct the innocent mistake, but he finds he is unable to call out to them. There is some invisible force obstructing the path that his words are desperately attempting to travel. They continue to mock the boy relentlessly. No, they cannot be mocking someone so confident; so able-bodied. The faces of his comrades begin to violently contort into terrifying, foreign shapes. 

“Tav-ros! Tav-ros! Taaaaaaaav-roooooooos!”

They are morphing into the many-eyed faces of spiders. The chants turn to the acrid hissing that the terrible legbeasts are known for. The chanting continues, bitter and scathing now. The troll did not notice the copious amounts of brown tears streaming until a sharp gust of wind came screaming from the distance, instantly chilling the salty liquid into beaded, stinging streaks of ice on the poor Skylark's face and sending the boy tumbling down through the air to where the water was just a minute ago. Where a pristine, gleaming ocean should be, there is now only darkness and Pupa - or Tavros. Whoever this troll might actually be, he is rocketing straight into the shadowy recesses, unable to pull together the strength to fly back up, with the arachnids still delighting in his torment.

“Taaaaaaaav-ros! Taaaaaaaav-roooooooos! Taaaaaaaavroooooooos! Tavros! Tavros, please!” The low, vituperative tone harshly crescendos into fretful and desperate cries in quick procession. The faces disappear as the troll is wrenched back into consciousness. Leaving the lucid fantasy world that had quickly become a torturous prison brings on a wave of relief, but it is short-lived. Leaving the dream realm tends to bring back one's real world sensory abilities. Tavros is now fully aware of every bit of pain in his bruised body, but what is most concerning is the lack-thereof in his legs. There is no pain or discomfort, but there is no state of pleasure or homeostasis, either. There is nothing.

The first thing that registers in the boy's ears is the voice of his closest friend. “Tavros, thank the gods that you're awake. You were throwing a fit in your sleep! We thought you-”

“They're g-gone! They're-” Tavros begins to rock violently, trying to escape the cold surface of whatever he is laying on. “My legs! They- they aren't there, they- where am I? I don't-” With eyes wide, he begins to claw at any surface he can make contact with, swatting away the frantic hands of the blurred figures surrounding him.

A face leans in. It may or may not be trying to calm him, but the need to calm is not really seeming like a priority to Tavros. His flailing eventually awards him contact with the face. Claw to flesh contact. There is now a deep indigo substance staining the troll's fingertips, but it doesn't register in his head. The face barely twitches. It's of no concern to Tavros. He does not have room in his thinkpan for sympathy at the moment. He feels but one thing. He feels the need to run, to get away from the strange place that is not his hive. He needs legs for that. Looking down, Tavros lets out a short sigh of relief at the sight of the legs that are still there. His captors must have numbed them. Bastards. He continues to struggle with the people attempting to help him and, finally, his hand connects with what feels like the chest of a tall troll with enough force to push his body across the surface he is resting on, effectively freeing him from the dreaded table. He succeeds in dropping about three feet to introduce his skull to a new friend. The floor.

“Tavros! You're bleeding again! Calm down, you're-”

The rest of the plea is lost to him as he slips back into unconsciousness.

When Tavros decides to once again join the world of the living, the pain in his head has returned in full force. He feels much worse than he did right after the incident. The intense dryness in his mouth and the tugging pain that shoots through his throat as he tries to swallow the feeling away tell him that he has been passed out with his mouth open, probably snoring. 

He is no longer afraid. He cannot remember exactly why he was afraid in the first place. He can't remember much of anything from the day before besides being in a strange hive. However, by some mysterious force, Tavros is now in his own respiteblock, buried neck-deep in the thick green sopor that fills his recuperacoon. His head is sticking out, as always, but he finds that he does not mind. He is content with simply being in a familiar place. A quick scope of the room reveals to him that Aradia stayed the night on his couch. She was probably shaking so badly with rage and grief that she could not bear to leave her friend alone.

She seems at ease in her sleep, Tavros muses. She usually puts on a bit of a front, conducting herself in an accepting, neutral manner, no matter the situation. While sleeping, though, she always seems happy. Almost as if sensing his wakefulness, Aradia begins to stir. Her eyes flutter open and her head drifts lazily to the side. Barely awake and she is already checking on him. Tavros acknowledges this with a weak smile, but his lips crack painfully, reminding him of the arid status of his mouth. He decides that he is feeling well enough to go get himself something to drink. In one fluid motion, he pulls at the edges of his recuperacoon and easily slides out onto the floor, rolls over, and sits up to begin wiping the majority of the slime from his body. 

“Tavros!” Suddenly, Aradia seems to be completely awake and diving into her over-protective friend mode. “What are you doing?!”

“It's ok, Aradia. Um, really, I'm feeling a lot better.” Tavros yawns, tearing fresh, brown splits into his dark lips and eliciting a small yelp from himself. He holds a bit of sopor slime to the corner of his mouth to ease the pain, but is careful to wipe every bit of it off afterward and spit out what had made its way into his mouth. Every troll knows that sopor is a necessity for sleeping and staying healthy, but it is not something to be ingested. Every troll's lusus is careful to relay this information with whatever form of communication they can manage. The stuff has uncanny healing effects on trolls, but it can do funny things to one's head if eaten. Tavros prefers not to think about what effects it might have on someone. He certainly wouldn't want to be around anyone under the influence of sopor slime.

“It's good that you're feeling better,” she gives a silent sigh of relief, “but let me help you out until you can manage on your own.”

“Aradia, I'm just going to get some water or...or something.” Tavros begins to stand up, but there is a problem. Oh, wait a minute. His eyes widen in realization for a few seconds before his face adorns a look of pure dejection. He looks up at his friend with moistened eyes and a slight quiver to his lip. She offers an apologetic smile before slumping to the floor to throw her arms around the boy. Tavros allows himself to be surrounded by the snug, unwavering arms that always seem to be there when he needs them. He attempts to move to a more comfortable position, but without the support of his lower half, he sort of just...falls into her shoulder. With his face. In his clumsiness, he just barely misses clipping Aradia's cheek with his horn. After giving the cranial protrusion a wary glance, she closes her eyes and pulls Tavros closer, patting his back and rubbing small, comforting circles there.

Mere moments pass before Tavros is reduced to emitting pitiful, wracking sobs into Aradia's shoulder. Her shirt and her unruly hair are becoming soaked with caramel-colored tears, but she doesn't seem to mind too much.

“Aradia, I- I can't, my legs are...What do I do? I don't know what to do, I can't walk-!”

“Shh, it's going to be ok. Everything is ok.” She rests her cheek on the side of Tavros' head and mumbles a few incoherent words into his mo-hawk. He cannot understand her, but the gesture on her part comforts him. They stay like that for what feels like hours, but is probably closer to a few minutes.


	4. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

==> Become the Cripple

You can't really become the cripple because you already are the cripple. You've been the cripple for quite a while, actually. It's been almost seven Earth years since that day, and you've learned to accommodate for your disability, but, even after all this time, you've never quite grown used to the idea that you will never be able to use your legs again. Prosthetic limbs aren't really an option at the moment when you barely have the money to buy books for school.

Oh, that's right. School. What you have grown used to is the daily routine that you've developed, but that routine is about to be shattered into tiny, unrecognizable pieces. Realization suddenly dawns on you. You will be going off to college in about a week. You will have to leave your home, if you can call it that, and be truly alone for the first time in your life. You suppose the leaving part doesn't really matter. Your foster mother couldn't be happier about your upcoming departure. She was planning to kick you out on your birthday, anyway.

When you first came to live in her home, Ms. Vazquez seemed to genuinely enjoy your presence. She was a happy, human woman from Spain with an uncanny curiosity for troll culture. Being a troll, they were very happy to adopt you after your lusus died. Like other young trolls, you were perfectly capable of surviving on your own, but it is not customary on Earth for one as young as yourself to live without a caretaker.

You didn't mind. Your human mother lusus was always so much like Tinkerbull. She was strict, but very kind and gentle. You were bullied a lot when you were younger. You still are, but back then, she was always there for you. The two of you didn't have much, but everything was peaceful. You were happy. (BUT EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE SPIDER NATION ATTACKED.) Everything changed after your accident. It started on the day you woke up in your room with useless legs and a worried friend on your couch.

After Aradia had spent a fairly long time comforting you, she helped you onto a blanket to pull you to the kitchen. It was there that you found your mother, hunched over at the table, sobbing uncontrollably. You wanted so desperately to comfort her. You abandoned the blanket and crawled over to the spot on the floor beside her, straining to drag the dead weight the whole way. When you reached her, you laid a trembling hand on her knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You felt so pathetic crawling around like that. It took everything you had to force the corners of your mouth up when she left the comfort of her arms to look at you. After a bit of hesitation, she dropped to the floor with you and pulled you into a tight hug. It didn't last long. Suddenly, as if she were making a mistake and she was in a hurry to correct it, she became rigid in your arms. She pulled away from the embrace and the look on her face was more than enough to shatter the feeble smile that you were trying so very hard to keep intact.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line, attempting neutrality, but her eyes gave it all away. She looked at you like you were a sick pet that needed to be put down. You don't know what Aradia was thinking as she witnessed this from her spot in the doorway, but you're sure she noticed your mom's eyes. In those eyes, the color of sweet, milk chocolate, there was something brewing. It was nothing but a slew of bitterness and apathy.

In the years after that, she began to distance herself from you. She had no insurance, so the medical bills were pretty rough on her. With all of the stress of bills and her reckless attempts to sever her emotional ties to you, your mother became exceptionally irritable. She began to lash out at you. It was never physical, but the emotional trauma of it all has made you very sensitive. Your wheelchair is the last real possession she gave you, and you cherish it and hold onto the sentiment as if it is a rope and you're dangling from a cliff. You scoff a bit at the irony of that simile as you pull your mind off of the subject of your past.

Being paralyzed as you are, you don't get to do much outdoor role playing with your friends. In fact, you don't do any. Lack of mobility, and all. You do, however, play massive multiplayer online role playing games. MMORPGs, for short. Since the “accident,” as you like to call it, you don't really speak to Terezi much. After what happened, she was so wracked with guilt over bringing Vriska that she couldn't bear to look at you.

Actually, look isn't really the right word. She can't really do that now. She's had had her own issues with Vriska. Issues that we won't go into right now.

>Cease having these thoughts. You have the attention span of a frenzied salamander.

You are about to continue with this stream of depressing thoughts when you miraculously remember that we were learning about your plans for school. You will yourself to think about that, instead. Maybe you won't get distracted this time. 

So, the school that you will be attending soon is actually quite prestigious. This means, of course, that it is predominantly a human school. Being the impoverish troll boy that you are, you would not have a chance at getting into your Becktu University without your great attitude and notable grades. Mostly the grades. With countless hours of studying, you were always able to keep up your grades, even with your declining home life. You didn't let your sadness-

> I said stop it

But-

> Stopstopstop

Just-

==>==>==>==>==>==>

Fine... 

Since you've conveniently just finished packing for your trip, with nothing else to do, you decide that it's a good time to log onto one of your previously mentioned MMORPGs. Your favorite is World of Warcraft. Well, it's actually Aradia's favorite, but she is the only one of your friends who actively takes time out of her day to play with you, so you sort of adopted it as your favorite, too. It takes several minutes to load on your cheap laptop. It's all you could afford with your measly life-savings, but it works. You pass the time by humming and softly singing to yourself. You get to the point where you never want to hear the number “867-5309” again. You'll probably listen to it tomorrow, anyway. You could never hate that song. It is then that the loading screen finally flashes off and the grassy plains of Mulgore begin to load. You chose to log onto your Tauren Hunter. When Aradia told you that she wanted to level new characters, you felt that you should level one you could connect with. You really love animals, especially those of the bovine persuasion, so this seemed like the perfect class and race combination. You named him “Toreador.”

Soon, the rest of the landscape begins to load in. First, the buildings. Then, the tents and the totem pole. The fire crackles into existence and the NPCs pop up, one by one. Before you are able to check for online friends, one friend in particular, the game finishes loading itself and a familiar character appears. An Undead Mage is on the outskirts of the village that your Tauren stands in, picking herbs. You hear a familiar sound as a pink message makes its way into your chat log.

[Arisen]: hell0 tavr0s

[Arisen]: i was h0ping that y0u w0uld be 0nline s00n

To [Arisen]: hEY THERE, aRADIA! }:)

To [Arisen]: iT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU, tOO

[Arisen]: h0w are y0u c0ping with the th0ught 0f having t0 leave f0r sch00l s00n

To [Arisen]: wOW, yOU SURE DID GET STRAIGHT TO THE POINT

[Arisen]: 0_0

[Arisen]: is that a bad thing

To [Arisen]: oH, nO, i, dIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!

To [Arisen]: i JUST,

To [Arisen]: i'M FINE WITH GOING TO,

[Arisen]: sch00l

To [Arisen]: yES, tHANK YOU }:o

[Arisen]: thats 0dd

[Arisen]: i assumed that s0me0ne like y0u w0uld be a little distraught 0ver g0ing t0 a sch00l 0f prejudiced humans

To [Arisen]: pREJUDICED? i REALLY NEVER, tHOUGHT ABOUT IT LIKE THAT

[Arisen]: its an all human sch00l isnt it 

[Arisen]: im sure there will be a l0t 0f 0pini0nated humans

[Arisen]: and n0t many tr0lls

[Arisen]: d0esnt that make y0u nerv0us?

To [Arisen]: nOW THAT YOU, mENTION IT, I AM DEFINITELY THINKING ABOUT THAT

To [Arisen]: wOW, tHAT DOES MAKE ME PRETTY NERVOUS, aCTUALLY

[Arisen]: im s0rry if i made y0u unc0mf0rtable 

[Arisen]: lets just d0 s0me quests d0 get y0ur mind 0ff 0f things 

[Arisen]: we'll talk ab0ut this in pers0n

To [Arisen]: oH, iTS, fINE, i GUESS

[Arisen]: well actually i did have s0mething else i wanted t0 discuss with y0u

[Arisen]: s0mething t0 ask that is

To [Arisen]: oH, wHAT IS IT?

You and Aradia had accepted a few quests to kill various forms of fauna in the surrounding area. It upsets you a little to kill the animals, but you think of Rufio. He tells you that they're only pixelated. You know this already, but you still feel bad. You see Aradia standing still whilst being assaulted by a half-dead wolf. You target it and sink an arrow into the beast, landing the killing blow just as a new whisper appeared in your chat log.

[Arisen]: i

[Arisen]: nevermind

To [Arisen]: aRADIA, wHAT DID YOU, wANT TO ASK?

[Arisen]: n0thing

[Arisen]: just f0rget i said anything

To [Arisen]: bUT, aRADIA,,,

[Arisen]: just f0rget it!

To [Arisen]: }:(

[Arisen]: im s0 s0rry tavr0s

[Arisen]: its just

[Arisen]: n0t s0mething im ready t0 talk ab0ut

[Arisen]: later

[Arisen]: i pr0mise

Arisen hugs you.

You smile at Arisen.

Your arms tingle at the sides, remembering the sheer warmth of her embrace. Her demeanor seems a little cold at times, but her hugs have always been just the opposite. You continue to help your moirail in her quest to slaughter all of the adorable animals in Mulgore. What are friends for?

Wait a minute. Friends. Did you just think of her as your moirail a second ago? You've always been great friends, and if you had to choose someone to be your moirail, you would probaby pick Aradia, but you and she have never actually discussed being in a quadrant together. You sort of want to mention it to her now, but your nerves are getting to you. Sure, it's Aradia. She's the one person you feel you can actually open up to. Still, this is different. It's about romance. It's on the platonic end of the spectrum, but it's still a quadrant. A quadrant! Quadrants scare you a little.

To [Arisen]: aradia,

[Arisen]: what is it tavr0s

To [Arisen]: i, kIND OF, i DON'T REALLY,,,,,

To [Arisen]: i, aCTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO ASK YOU, nOW, aS WELL

[Arisen]: ab0ut what

To [Arisen]: wELL, iTS KIND OF, uH

To [Arisen]: aBOUT

To [Arisen]: ,,,,,

[Arisen]: is there s0mething wr0ng

To [Arisen]: a QUADRANT

[Arisen]: 0h 

[Arisen]: 0_0

To [Arisen]: oH, iM, sO SORRY

To [Arisen]: i JUST MADE EVERYTHING AWKWARD, aND, yOU ASKED ME A QUESTION, aND

To [Arisen]: i INTERRUPTED, aND, sORRY, i 

[Arisen]: tavr0s

To [Arisen]: }:'(

[Arisen]: its 0k

[Arisen]: my questi0n fr0m earlier

[Arisen]: it was als0 c0ncerning a quadrant

[Arisen]: that I

[Arisen]: want t0 be in with y0u

To: [Arisen]: oH, 

To [Arisen]: oH, tHANK GOODNESS

To [Arisen]: i WAS SO WORRIED THAT, yOUD, rEJECT ME

[Arisen]: i always felt that y0u might n0t be ready f0r any s0rt 0f r0mance

[Arisen]: im actually really happy that y0u feel the same

To [Arisen]: tHIS IS, sO GREAT }:)

To [Arisen]: i MEAN, I ALWAYS THOUGHT OF YOU AS MY, bEST FRIEND, bUT

To [Arisen]: i STARTED THINKING OF YOU AS MY, mOIRAIL, aND I THOUGHT THAT, mAYBE IT WAS, a BAD THING

To [Arisen]: yOU KNOW, iF YOU DIDNT THINK OF ME LIKE, tHAT

She didn't reply for a long time. Both of you stopped killing. After what seemed like an eternity of just staring, eyes not focusing on anything in particular, you heard a 'ding.'

[Arisen]: yes

[Arisen]: m0irails

[Arisen]: im s0rry tavr0s but

[Arisen]: im a little busy

[Arisen]: i have t0 g0 n0w

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have a beta or anything, so if anyone notices any grammatical errors or tense issues, please let me know uwu


End file.
